'He was somewhat deformed,' says Ritter, 'blind of one eye, one leg shorter than the other, one arm somewhat withered, and he was given to the habit of continually taking snuff. He carried this precious article in his coat pocket made of leather, and every few minutes would take a pinch, holding the snuff between the thumb and clinched hand. To this feature we must add his stentorian voice, made, no doubt, rough as a saw by the effects of the quantity of snuff that was continually rasping his throat.'[24] His zeal continually outran his discretion. Even in church his voice drowned those of his neighbors. He was of the temperament that cannot approve without giving three cheers. The very titles of his works provoke a smile. For instance: 'The New England Psalm Singer: or American Chorister Containing a number of Psalm-tunes, Anthems and Canons. In four or five parts. (Never Before Published.) Composed by William Billings, a native of Boston, in New England. Matt. 12. 16. "Out of the Mouths of Babes and Sucklings hast thou Perfected Praise." James 5. 13. "Is any Merry? Let him sing Psalms." "O, praise the Lord with one consent And in this grand design Let Britain and the Colonies Unanimously join." Boston: New England, Printed by Edes and Gill.' Nevertheless Hillings was an original genius with an unaffected, fervent and sincere love of his art. His very naïveté is refreshing in an age which artistic artificiality had rendered almost sterile. Of musical knowledge he possessed very little. What knowledge he had he picked up himself from such limited sources as were at his disposal. In the preface to his 'New England Psalm-Singer' he confesses ingenuously: 'For my own part, as I don't think myself confined to any Rules for Composition laid down by any that went before me, neither should I think (were I to pretend to lay down rules) that any who comes after me were anyways obligated to adhere to them any further than they should think proper: so in fact I think it is proper for every composer to be his own learner. Therefore, upon this consideration, for me to dictate or to prescribe Rules of the Nature for others, would not only be very unnecessary but also a very great Vanity.' Later he frankly confessed the immaturity that dictated those statements. He set himself more humbly to the study of rules for composition and developed an enthusiasm for counterpoint, of which he speaks in the following terms: 'It has more than twenty times the power of the old slow tunes; each foot straining for mastery and victory, the audience entertained and delighted, their minds surpassingly fluctuated, sometimes declaring for one part and sometimes for another. Now the solemn bass demands their attention--next the manly tenor--now, the lofty counter--now, the volatile treble. Now here--now there, now here again. O, ecstatic! Rush on, you sons of Harmony!' Even the tremendous earnestness of the man